


Chapter Six: Control, I'm Here

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [7]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers Generation Two, Transformers: Beast Machines, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Discovery, Gen, Haunting, Other, Quantum Mechanics, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3259361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two weeks ago, Pantera was on a scouting mission with Rattrap and Skyfire overlooking Iacon Proper, when they come across a crashed Autobot ship. Believing they could scavenge equipment to turn the tides in their fight against Megatron and his Vehicons, the plan takes a dive when they stumble on the massacred bodies of the crew.</p><p>(Continuum Timeline: Parallel between Beast Machines' "Spark of Darkness" and "Endgame")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Six: Control, I'm Here

we close our eyes  
close them in your dreams  
close them in your home  
i'm here to stay  
i won't go away  
— ["Control I'm Here"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YmhREgra8Wk) by Nitzer Ebb, from _Belief_

Cybertropolis, Iacon District  
Cybertron  
Three Hundred Stels from Now and Two Decacycles Ago

"'We need fixtures,' Shrubs says. 'Rattrap, go scavenge for fixtures,' Boss Monkey says. We're not going to beat Megatron with slaggin' plants!"

The technorganic jaguar, keeping pace with him, said nothing, her head bowed but optics forward.

"Not in the mood for conversing, kitty-cat?" Rattrap questioned. "But you're agreeing with me, right? Only reason you came was to scav for weapons. Boss Monkey's not gonna be happy."

"You're right," Pantera growled, just above a whisper. "We aren't going to win this war with plants."

"I don't understand why you don't just take over," Rattrap continued. "Don't you have the authority? He'd stand down if you told him to!"

"Kicked off the High Council because of the whole Protoform X fiasco, remember? And he knows it. I'm an old, tired warrior. I don't trust myself to lead. Cheetor's our only chance."

"But 'Tera—" His protest was interrupted by a whoosh of wings as the red and silver gyrfalcon dove, snapping his talons just above Rattrap's head, pulling up and twisting before hovering in front of the two ground Maximals.

"There's a protrusion off the Sea of Light, two klicks west of here," Skyfire reported. "Looks like a ship — a big one — but it's melded into the cliff. I don't remember ever seeing it in the maps."

"Does it look picked over?" Pantera questioned.

"I only did a fly-by," Skyfire shook his head, "but it would require either a flyer or something capable of climbing to get in there, and the aerodrones are too weak to carry equipment."

Rattrap stood on his hind legs, looking up at Pantera. "Sounds like we're finally getting a break!"

The jaguar tilted her head, the barest of nods. "Sky, maintain scouting until we get there. You see trouble, you get out; you're not exactly stealth colours."

"You got it, 'Tera," the gyrfalcon agreed, taking off.

"We'll scout first," Pantera explained to Rattrap. "If there's viable equipment, we'll send Skyfire for backup."

"And we cache the weapons?" Rattrap suggested.

Pantera was silent for five clicks before responding. "We cache the weapons first. Then call for backup."

"See? You have the right idea."

Pantera granted him a cool, unreadable gaze before breaking into a run. Rattrap protested, straining to keep up. Keeping an optic to the sky, the jaguar led the charge to the cliff overlooking the chasm that once served as the shipping hub of Iacon.  
Skyfire was circling overhead, wide, lazy spirals, over a spot just beyond the cliff. Pantera stopped, close enough to see the horizon beyond, but not too close to see the dip of the chasm. She allowed Rattrap that honour.

By the time the rodent arrived, Skyfire dipped in altitude, hovering just before the edge. "Down here, 'bout ten metres there's a ledge. From there, we can enter through a breach in the hull."

"Eh, kitty cat, you gonna be all right?" Rattrap questioned; Pantera's acrophobia was no secret amongst the Maximals.

"I'm going to have to be, won't I?" She snapped, approaching the edge with a cautious step. "Should have brought Silverbolt with us."

"Please, his depression is contagious," Rattrap groaned. "No worries, kitty cat, I'll go first."

Skyfire pulled up next to Pantera, then landed, mantling his wings.

"We could arrange an...accident," the gyrfalcon muttered, optics now reddish-gold.

"No." Pantera sat on her haunches, maintaining a thousand-metre stare at the horizon. "What have you found out about this ship?"

"Other than it's nothing I recognise? It's Cybertronian, but other than that..." Skyfire — now Starscream — harrumphed. "I'm intrigued. Didn't get too far in; there's some dead bodies in the way. Been like that for two, three hundred stellar cycles. All old-school Autobots, far as I could tell."

Pantera sighed. "Wonderful. Even if we find working weapons, they'd likely be too large for us to handle."

"I don't know which is more unnerving," Starscream smirked, an impressive feat with a beak, "that you did not bat an optic at 'Autobot dead bodies', or that your first priority is to secure weapons. Some Maximal you are. And by 'unnerving', I mean 'promising'."

"Give me a reason to clip your wings, Flyboy. Go ahead. The others barely trust you as Skyfire as it is."

He brought his head close to her audio receptor. "But you won't." With that, he took to the air once more, diving over the edge.

She folded her ears back, crawling on her belly and looking over. A ledge, ten metres down and two meters across, separated her from plummeting to her death. Rattrap looked up at her; Starscream — no, blue-opticked Skyfire — hovered above the technorganic rodent.

"Primus hates me," she growled, using her claws to slow her descent as she slid down the cliff face. Once on a solid surface, Pantera pressed against the cliff as they ventured forward, toward the protrusion.

"That ain't embedded, kid," Rattrap corrected, examining the seam where the metal ship met the rock. "That's merged!"

"Which is why I said what I had said. A hop ship making a wrong calculation, perhaps," Skyfire pondered. "But so close to a planet? That's —"

"Suicide?" Rattrap suggested.

"Or desperation," Pantera added, approaching the gash in the hull, just large enough to allow them passage into the ship. "Any markings, names, port numbers on the hull?"

"Scoured off, likely from the elements," Skyfire retorted. "This has been here for a long time."

"But how did we miss it?" Rattrap countered. "Something this huge—"

"This was not here before," Pantera interrupted. "There is no way a ship this large could have been under our noses for three hundred stels!"

"Erosion, perhaps," Skyfire swooped inside, perching on a twisted outcrop of metal. "One good meteorological or seismic event could blast out the entire cliff face."

"Well, no good trying to figure out where this came from," Pantera sighed. "It's here, and we got to it first. Rattrap, see if you can find a bridge, or control room. I'm going to find a weapons locker and look for anything salvageable."

"And me?" Skyfire questioned. "Maybe I should go with Rattrap?"

Rattrap scoffed. "And do what, kid? Best to stay watch in the case the Vehicons come snooping."

"Rattrap, I could assign you to sentry instead," Pantera growled. "As long as we stay in beast mode and stick to the shadows, we should be fine. Sky can search for medical supplies. But I want you to get information about this ship, and see if we can scav the electrical and computer systems."

"You get all the fun," Rattrap muttered, sniffing the air. "This place is huge — meet back here in two megacycles? To touch base?"

"Two megacycles." Pantera nodded. She and Skyfire watched the rat scurried down the corridor, into darkness.

Skyfire lowered his head, blue optics burning to red-gold. "He's out of earshot," he growled.

"I mean it," Pantera snapped. "Medical supplies."

Starscream scoffed. "You're just as curious as I to find out why this ship is here."

"Doesn't change the mission," she retorted.

"I think it does. At least three hundred stels — these corpses would be from our era. Do you recognise any of them?"

Pantera only glowered at the gyrfalcon before padding to a trio of Autobot shells, optics empty, mouths, stretched grotesquely, screaming in silence. "Ratchet and Hound; they ran with Optimus's crew. Don't know the pretty boy in the middle, though."

_"His name's Drift."_

Pantera whipped her head to the voice; neither Starscream or Skyfire, nor anyone else she recognised. At least it was not the blasted Oracle; the tone was the old-school Autobot reverb, and right next to her ear.

"Ratchet and Hound — we killed them when we ambushed the shuttle. The battle at Autobot City, where we lost our dear, dear leader Megatron." Starscream had attempted to get a rise from her, but the delivery was flat. "Why are they here?"

_"Drift used to be a Decepticon named Deadlock. Ask the feather duster if he knew him."_

"Who's Deadlock?" Pantera demanded, starting to take a liking to the voice.

"Deadlock? No clue. Wait." The gyrfalcon launched into the air and, with two beats, crossed the expanse, landing on the knee of the middle Autobot. "They were killed here. This isn't the supply shuttle to Earth, and this Autobot wasn't on board. But — Deadlock? Why is that name...?"

While Starscream brooded the problem, Pantera approached a small Autobot, taller than her bipedal mode by maybe one-and-a-half meters, with an all-terrain vehicle mode, judging by the tyres. Grey and green — at least in the low level light — with a predominant facial marking. Half his chest had been blown apart — it had to have been a clean, quick death, vapourised the spark in an instant.

_"I'm sorry."_

"Who's that?" Starscream questioned.

"I don't know," Pantera shook her head, but approached closer, bringing her nose near the face. "But — this is wrong. I know him, but I ... I've never seen him before. But — what the hell is going on?"

Starscream chuckled, that dark, grating sound that preceded the twist of a knife. "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough — look up."

Tearing her gaze away from the smaller 'bot, she did as instructed.

"Tell me, Arty," Starscream chortled, "is this the mausoleum ship?"

"No." She drew out the word as she comprehended what she was looking at. "No, this wasn't desecration ... this was a slaughter."

In contrast the the green and grey Minibot, the Autobot slouched against the wall was a behemoth. This one, she knew all too well, and recognition...stung. Which had been Starscream's intention.

Like the Minibot, Ultra Magnus had a gaping hole low in his chest. It was not the wound that killed him in Autobot City in her memory; this one was off to the right instead of dead centre.

"Primus, soldier," she whispered, "what happened?"

Hard talons grasped her shoulders, and Starscream brought his beak to her ear. "We're not accomplishing anything here. Shall we continue—?" He was interrupted by Rattrap's scream. "Oh, bother," Starscream grumbled, "someone got himself in a spot."

Rattrap wasted no time returning to the entry point. "There's ... 'Tera, I mean, there's dead bodies, and then there's ... Great Gouda, they're missing...." He gestured to the corridor he had come from, unable to form coherent words.

"What are they missing?" Pantera demanded, turning away from the horror behind her. She fought to maintain her composure. Starscream — Skyfire — jumped off her shoulder and flew into the corridor, ahead of the ground-based Maximals.

Rattrap pressed his front paws against her shoulders as though attempting to stop her advance. "Seriously, kitty cat, it's bad in there."

"You'd be surprised how fast one gets desensitised after dealing with Legion," she growled, pushing forward.

"I'm betting Legion never ripped T-cogs out of 'bots in vehicle mode!" Rattrap exclaimed.

"No," she flattened her ears against her head, "they did not."

_"Probably not a good idea to go in there, Art."_

She wanted to snap back at the voice; she had her fair share of voices in her head throughout her existence and dealt with it appropriately: by snarling and snapping and arguing. But she did not need Rattrap to hear her giving this one her piece of mind.

_"Ever the stubborn one — that's why I loved ya."_

_Octane?_ She picked up the implication: that was a friend-love expression, an _amica endurae._ No, Octane was not that...earnest. Besides, not the right voice. Not Sandstorm, either. She was distracted by her thoughts on the voice when she stumbled on the horror that tamed the room behind them, what had disturbed Rattrap.

A vehicle graveyard. None in their bipedal modes, each with a bullet hole and a large bore in various places on each chassis.

"What...the...frag...?" She snarled; a flash of blue, and she stood on two legs, storming through the dead.

"'Tera, what are you doing?" Rattrap demanded.

"I need my hands," she growled; Skyfire followed suit, flanking the larger Maximal. "Rattrap, find a data port and jack in; we need security surveillance. Sky, find a crew manifest and ship map."

"And you?" Rattrap transformed in a burst of red.

"Looking for clues to what happened here. There are 'bots here that supposedly died on Earth. And this isn't by war; this was homicide. A slaughter. I want to know why."

_"I don't think you're going to like the answer, but that won't stop you."_

_Who are you?_ She did not expect an reply.

"'Tera, I don't think we should be here," Rattrap whined, flipping his visor up and shaking his head. "We need to leave, ASAP!"

"Are we in danger?" Pantera demanded, peering through the bore hole of a red and white four-wheeler. She was no doctor, but it was clear that something was missing. Rattrap called it: t-cogs were missing. "Looking for a serial killer who takes the t-cogs of his victims," she muttered. "A Phase-Sixer? Or someone hopped up on circuit boosters? Or more than one killer...Sky!"

"Not enough power to boot up the computers," Skyfire reported, crouching on the console. "'Tera, I'm agreeing with Rattrap — we should get out of here. These guys were shot first, execution-style, before their ...." The gyrfalcon stumbled over his words.

_"Think he's goading you on? He wants to know, too."_

"Problem is, what if Megatron finds this?" Pantera questioned.

"He will if we keep in our 'bot modes!" Rattrap countered.

"Then head back," she ordered. "There's something here, and I need to find it."

Rattrap dropped to all fours, reverting to beast mode. "Want me to report this to Cheetor and Optimus?"

"These guys've been dead a long time," Pantera reported. "It's not going to help nor hinder if they know of this."

Rattrap hesitated, but nodded. "Just — be careful, 'Tera. You coming, kid?"

"I'll stay with 'Tera," Skyfire retorted, if nervous. "She may need back up."

"Thanks, Sky," she nodded, although, away from Rattrap, she narrowed her optics. Continuing through the macabre scene, she moved her way into the next room, where Skyfire stood on the console.

"There's few things I'm not an expert on," Starscream stated, "but I'm thinking we've stumbled upon a quantum irregularity. We already know alternate universes exist."

"That or perhaps some sick cloning experiment," Pantera grumbled.

"No, I think I'm right this time," Starscream countered; he spoke with deliberation, that condescending tone he reserved for for that moment where he set up the big reveal of proof that he was, when all was said and done, correct.

She squared her shoulders and stormed to the console; as she did, the avian Seeker extended one talon to indicate an artifact on the floor close by. It was a firearm — a rifle — matte black and, up until whatever decimated the crew, well maintained. A manufacturer's mark indicated a custom job.

An old friend, one she had not laid hands upon for three hundred years: her rifle. Serendipity.

She bit down on a retort, denial, but bristled. The rifle should have been locked away in a weapons locker, buried deep underneath Cybertropolis, within a dockside warehouse on the old Iacon Harbour wharf. She placed a hand on the surface, then, setting her shoulders, looked beyond the firearm, to the Autobot hand that had last wielded it.

 _Frag —_ the feather duster was right.

On the palm of the left hand, the spiral design of the Four Winds Mercenary guild, with the ident chip lining its surface, stood out black against grey.

Wait. It had been blue on black. That oddity gave her courage to face the anomaly, and she rounded the weapon to get a better look at its owner.

It was her — what was left of Autobot her. Before the Maximal reformat, she had been more streamline, blue and black, the influence of the Matrix remaining with her even after she returned it to Rodimus. This shell had the starlight black, chrome, and steel grey of her prior to the artifact's influence; the build was bulkier, similar to her design prior to arriving on Earth.

Like Magnus and the Deployer, she had been killed by a single, devastating shot low in the chest.

"Fought too well to be tortured," Starscream added his thoughts, a flippant observation. "Could have been a mercy —"

"Shut up, Starscream," she snarled, fighting the wave of nausea. The death was now affecting her senses. "Why am I — why is Artemis — here?"

"Isn't that why we're here to find out? Your idea, may I remind you."

_"Told you you wouldn't like what you'd find, Art. I'm sorry."_

"Okay, I'm hearing someone talking to me. Tell me you're not hearing that."

"Oh, there's ghosts all around us, Arty. Echoes. Whispers of extinguished sparks. Can't really make out what they're saying, but I'd bet Primal would either have a field day trying to save them, or go mad from the horror they witnessed. I'd like to see the latter myself."

"This one knows me, knows who I was," Pantera stood upright. "Who are you?"

 _"You...you don't remember me?"_ The voice sounded hurt.

"I don't think we ever had the pleasure to meet," Pantera admitted.

_"Oh."_

"Now's not the time to flirt with ghosts," Starscream snapped, then chuckled at the irony of his statement. "Rattrap will most likely bring the other Maximals back here sooner rather than later."

Pantera granted him a withering glare before resuming her investigation around the body. "Who did this?" she asked the ghost, rounding the Autobot's legs to continue down the corridor.

There was no response, other than the overwhelming sense of terror.

"They were caught by surprise," Pantera observed, her optics falling on the hilt of a melee weapon. Black and grey, like the fallen Autobot. It was small, one-handed for an Autobot but too large to be one of the escrima sticks she had used before she ran with the Wreckers, and far too small to be the Forge. Curious, Pantera approached it. It was a hammer, like the Forge, designed smaller, more of a simple sledge. Wrapping a hand around the hilt, she felt a thrum of activity radiate from it, and it felt ... right. In Maximal hands — the hilt shifted to accommodate the smaller grip — it was easily a two-handed weapon.

"Every time I think you've given up your brutish tendencies, you have to go and find something to get your Wrecker up," Starscream snarked. "Honestly, I wonder why I even keep you around. But never mind that, I think I found a distress message. Last thing received—"

An audio receptor-splitting squelch ripped through the speakers. The avian seeker worked the controls to clear up the transmission.

 _"—don't open the coffin — don't let them take Skids — don't go to Delphi — and do not — I repeat, do not — look in the basement — and for the sake of the Cybertronian race itself, don't — "_ The broadcast cut out, and the silence following was just as painful.

"I'm guessing, 'don't let a delusional Predacon steal the golden disks and head to prehistoric Earth for energon' would constitute as a threat to the Cybetronian race," Starscream ad-libbed. "Well. Also weird is that the data stamp's matching the ship's protocol address. Why would anyone send a distress message to themselves?"

"What's in the basement?" Pantera questioned.

"How should I know? Ships don't have basements." Starscream jumped from the console. "Shall we find out?"

Pantera rested the hammer on her shoulder and cocked her head to one side, arching a brow.

He smirked. "I take that as a 'yes.'"

 

Next Chapter: Who Made You God?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering posting my older stuff, editing for continuity and grammar, or at least my best three (G1 Past Zero Time, BW Struggle Within/Wrath of the Fallen One [which had been split up into two parts] and BM Spirit of the Age/Crack the Liar's Smile [another split up into two parts].) We don't speak of Till All Are One. That was so painful that I haven't even touched it since 2000. Belief Module, I may tackle if only to get rid of the non-related loose ends, but that too had some really wince-worthy scenes (although the Combaticons picking a fight in a bar was pretty fragging funny, but I digress.)


End file.
